24 September 2009

(Excerpt from a story)10.30pm and I'm stuck in traffic! I shouldn't be where I am! I should be rounding up my 8pm date with my boyfriend and maybe getting a little brown sugar for dessert. But no...I'm stuck behind a belching cancer box that V. O. I hasn't seen and worse of all my cellphone's died on me, so I'm unable to call to cancel our date. My boss decides, at the last minute...as usual...on a friday (lousy day for traffic) to send me off to see a client in Eleme of all places. I estimate another 2 hours of limited movement and turn off the radio and select 'The Man That Can't Be Moved' by The Script to listen to, and cue 'Dark Horse' by Nickelback to follow, the beats keep me company and match my mood.Fast forward 3hrs, I finally drive into my compound, the yard appears empty...seems my neighbors took advantage of the weekend and went to the club. Musa, the security guard, gives me a note. Michael, my very ticked off boyfriend of 5 years, apparantly spent an hour waiting for me at home after an hour long wait for me when I didn't show at the restaurant. It's seems my cell packin up was a mixed blessing. At least that way I didn't have to hear him bitch about me being late for the duration of the date. Well thank God for small mercies.The whole relationship was starting to get a little bit stifling...what with his everyday complaints about my job, my career drive, my time and my friends. I don't know what he wants really, if I were a woman who sat on my bootylicious booty all day and waited for him to come buy me sanitary pads he'd be on my case 24/7 that is if he hadn't left me already. Unfortunately or fortunately i ain't that kinda chick. I like my great job, great car, apartment, wardrobe and generally my great life.Anyway I open the door, kick off my shoes and head for the kitchen. A half bottle of chilled red wine beckons me. Glass filled and bottle in hand I head to the bedroom sipping as I go. The lights are dimmed and Freddy Jackson serenading me in the background, i slowly start undressing, divesting myself of my suit jacket, rumpled white shirt and kicking off my short skirt. Sitting on the bed I slide off my sheer stockings one leg at a time. I head to the bathroom and start the process of filling the tub as I seriously need the soothing heat of a bubble bath. As the tub fills at an agonizingly slow rate I head back to the room dancing to the slow beats. I've just taken off my barely there silk and lace contraption that Victoria's Secrets called a bra when the doorbell buzzes. I pray wistfully that whoever it is will just go away, but the buzzing continues. Grabbing a robe off the hanger on the back of the door I head for the front door angrily...ready to rip the person a new one...! I mean who the HELL is that at 2AM? Through the peep hole I see Jamie my friend suitcase in hand."J! What the hell are you doing here at this time...with a suitcase no less". She looks at me and starts sobbing. "Mel...Justin hit me again," eyes bloodshot and swollen "he accused me of flirting with a guy at the club and when we got home he hit me! I left...I can't take his insecurity and jealousy anymore!" By now we'd gotten to the parlour and she collapses on the sofa weeping uncontrollably. Now although I make all the right noises and say all the right things I have no sympathy for Jamie whatsoever. Justin and I are like 1 and 10 or better yet parallel lines. He's an ass! This wouldn't be the first and not likely be the last time he'd hit her and she left. At least once in three months my pad becomes a shelter for battered women thanks to the two Js. I've told her to leave him for good but she always goes back. Always justifying his action and layin the blame for his latest beating on his job, his mother, her...anything but him! According to her 'he loves me, he really does...it's just that he's stressed'. Huh! Some kinda loving! The last time she lost a 4 month pregnancy, the next time the bastard might kill her! The irony of it is they're not even married yet, 7 years of togetherness and she's been his punching bag for 3 of these 'blissful' years. Well bye bye bubble bath! Sayonara blissful sleep!Inwardly pissed I lug her case into the bedroom and usher her towards the bathroom to clean up and hand her one of my nightgowns. Now Jazz is a beautiful girl with a great body and even greater job but Justin has made her a shadow of the bubbly and vivacious imp I met in college. Jazz was once the heart and soul of every party, the IT girl that everybody wanted to be friends with. People would go out of their way just to see her smile, and do anything to hear her laugh. Jazz and I had also for a brief while been lovers! It wasn't anything serious...more curiosity than lifestyle. We were younger then and wanted to know what it felt like to be loved by a woman, we loved each other as friends and were close enough not to worry about exposure. So I had vested interests in my former lover's happiness. Watching Jazz soaking in the tub brought back forbidden memories of long repressed embraces. Helping her scrub her back my hand lingered ever so briefly on the base of her neck...her sensitive spot and I feel her shudder...it seems she remembers too. She turns her head to look at me...like a puppy left out in the cold and I bend my head and kiss her. Not a deep or passionate kiss...just a light friendly reassuring touch on the lips with mine. Her mouth opens, inviting my tongue in. Instead I nibble on her bottom lip. She moans softly and shivers. My hand moves to her right breast, as I get down on my knees, gently tweaking on her nipple. She opens her legs and guides my hand to her parted legs... (T. B. C)

DISCLAIMER: All thoughts and opinions expressed here are all mine (crazy as they might seem). All works here are my original work (unless otherwise stated)

2
comments:

This...is the very reason I am wary of you...Reading your every word has an alluring quality reeling my in by the paragraph. I hardly know you beyond your words but I am bein drawn in. See why I am safer with you at "armslength"